


Sunday

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Rings, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole relationship thing is still new, Dean figures. Years of pent up frustration finally taken out in every room in the bunker, in every backseat and against every wall, even the one instance in the dungeon that left shackle bruises on his wrists for a week. And every time, it’s the best sex he’s ever had, because it’s with Castiel and Castiel knows how to break him, over and over again, just to piece him back together in the end. Never in his life has he been fucked so thoroughly, with such <i>intensity</i>, leaving him winded and exhausted in the aftermath, heart triple timing just to keep up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sass_Master](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sass_Master/gifts).



Getting Dean started isn’t the issue; on the contrary, rather. Even the smallest things can set him off, ranging from an accidental brush of hands to _that look_ that Castiel gives him whenever they have five minutes to themselves and Sam isn’t up their ass about research or organizing the storage rooms. Or figuring out where that subterranean tunnel in the subbasement goes; the last Dean checked, he had walked about a mile before the aging lighting system went out and left him in pitch darkness—he’d never ran so fast in his life.

The whole relationship thing is still new, he figures. Years of pent up frustration finally taken out in every room in the bunker, in every backseat and against every wall, even the one instance in the dungeon that left shackle bruises on his wrists for a week. And every time, it’s the best sex he’s ever had, because it’s with Castiel and Castiel knows how to break him, over and over again, just to piece him back together in the end. Never in his life has he been fucked so thoroughly, with such _intensity_ , leaving him winded and exhausted in the aftermath, heart triple timing just to keep up.

Sometimes it’s quick and easy, hand jobs in the supply room or blowjobs in the showers, and every time they lick the come away until there’s nothing left. Naked Sunday’s are apparently a thing too, now that Sam spends a day or two every week up in Sioux Falls with Jody, which allows Dean to strip down to nothing, most of the time with Castiel’s head in his lap or Dean’s ass in the air. The urgency has worn off somewhat, thankfully, replaced by roaming fingers and mouths, pleas bitten into sweat-soaked skin, promises whispered into each others hips. He’s delirious by the end of the day, pressed warm to Castiel’s front as Castiel envelops him, completely. Wholly.

Naked Sunday comes into effect five minutes after Sam leaves that weekend, and Dean’s nude before Castiel can even make it out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. “Actin’ like you got somethin’ to hide,” Dean taunts from their bedroom doorway. He helps Castiel drop the towel as soon as Castiel crosses the space between them, lips to Castiel’s neck and hands sliding down now-bare hips. He’s warm, almost scalding to the touch, and Dean wants to burrow himself inside, feel everything he can. “C’mon,” he says, a plea. “C’mon, wanna ride you.”

“I figured you would,” Castiel chuckles and twines their fingers together, holding Dean’s hands tight. “We were only in Tupelo a week.”

“Yeah, with _Sam_ in the same room,” Dean whines. A whole week in some backwoods town in Mississippi without Castiel’s mouth on him and he’s having withdrawals, his blood almost boiling with the need to touch him, to _feel_ his skin under his fingertips. He drags Castiel through the halls and into the screening room, pushes Castiel onto the couch and straddles his waist. Castiel is half hard now, cock thickening the longer Dean kisses him, their hands lost to each other. “Wanna ride your dick,” Dean moans against his lips, grinding their cocks together in a slow, sinuous rhythm. “Wanted you all week—.”

“You’ll have to wait,” Castiel smirks; Dean lets out a hollow whine when Castiel pushes him away and onto the couch, Dean’s legs spread wide to expose his cock, already fat and beading precome. “Unless you have lube stashed somewhere in here.”

Oh, _right_. “Kinda need that,” he laughs, near-hysteric. “Go—You know where the drawer is.”

And Castiel _leaves_ him, practically giddy as he does so. One day, Dean eagerness will get him in trouble. At least they’re home now and only a few feet from their bedroom; why Dean hadn’t dragged him _there_ , he had no idea. He only has a few seconds to compose himself by the time Castiel returns with their half-empty bottle of lube, a washcloth and a cock ring—a fucking _cock ring_ —in hand; all three get throw onto the couch after Dean stands, moves over Castiel’s waist again when Castiel sits, legs spread.

“So fucking hard, babe,” Dean says into their renewed kiss, and only winces once when Castiel slides a cold, wet finger across his rim, his nail providing enough of a tease to keep him on edge. He groans, long and loud when Castiel slips it inside, past the twitching muscle and pressing against his prostate with little effort. His cock twitches while Castiel works him open, Dean breathing nonsense into Castiel’s ear along the way, until he’s riding three fingers and Castiel is sucking a heavy dark mark just below his ear. That won’t fade any time soon, not as long as Castiel has anything to do with it.

“Wanna feel you, Cas,” Dean begs, one hand to the back of the couch, the other in Castiel’s hair. “God—don’t even think I remember it.”

Castiel hums into his ear, warm. “It’s only been a week,” he teases and curls his fingers; Dean lets out a shout, muffled into Castiel’s neck. “Though, I could remind you, if you ask me nicely.”

Dean whines—of _course_ he’d play that angle. “Glory be to Castiel on high, so that he’ll put his fat dick in my ass,” he taunts right back, sneering.

He doesn't expect the response he gets, though. With his free hand, Castiel _smacks_ his ass, hard enough to sting; Dean yelps with the impact, mouth agape. “You liked that, didn’t you?” Castiel jeers, finally slipping his fingers free. Apparently Castiel likes it too, based on how flushed his chest is, pupils dilated to their max.

Dean nods and hides his face in Castiel’s neck, shame burning on his cheeks. “I— _fuck_ … Still ain’t used to this talkin’ things out… thing.”

“Take your time,” Castiel soothes. He drags his hands down Dean’s spine, lets them palm his ass cheeks, fingers spreading his wet rim. “Though, preferably not forever.”

“You’re just as bad as me, sometimes,” Dean snickers. Kissing up Castiel’s neck, he ends at his lips and lets their foreheads rest together. “Want… Want you to spank me.”

“You’re sure?” Dean answers with a nod and kisses him again, one more time before Castiel finally lets him go and reaches for the cock ring.

Stupid thing had been Castiel’s idea, the little metal death trap making their way into their arsenal after a drunken stumble into a sex shop in Tacoma. It’s just three metal circles welded together—and somehow, Castiel convinced him it was _safe_. Dean watches him slide his cock and balls through the rings, until it’s situated firm around the base and cutting off _just_ enough to keep him hard. Not that that’ll be an issue, anyway. Just the thought of Castiel’s hands on him can get him up in record time; it takes a miracle for him to not come on the spot, now.

“Spank me while I ride you,” Dean says, face still flaming. He’s amazed he hasn’t caught fire by this point, his chest and neck dyed deep red in arousal, his cock weeping precome between them. “C’mon, Cas—.”

“Patience,” Castiel breathes, a last warning. “You’re still clean, right?”

If anything, Dean blushes harder. “Pretty sure since your dick’s the only one I’ve had in my mouth for the past few months, I think we’re good.”

“Good,” is Castiel’s only word—short, curt, a _claim_ —before he presses his cock to Dean’s rim, slipping inside.

Dean pushes down until Castiel is fully sheathed, cock thick and warm, pressed _right_ there. Castiel palms his hips when Dean starts to pull up, both arms atop the couch cushions as he presses right back down, taking him in even further. “ _Fuck_ ,” Dean whines between thrusts; he works to angle his hips just right, to get Castiel’s cock where he wants it, the fat head brushing his prostate in slow bursts. “ _Fuckin_ ’, c’mon, Cas,” he pleads. Castiel watches him with mirth, not even trying to move. “Gonna make me do all the work? C’mon, give it to me—.”

The first blow is harder than he expected, pain skittering across his skin in a quick wave; it shouldn't leave him gasping like it does, a choked laugh bubbling up. “Again, Cas,” he begs, breathless. “More, _please_ , one more—.”

Again and again, Dean lets out clipped shouts when Castiel spanks him with his full hand, always rubbing over the reddened mark afterwards. It’s a nice reprieve before he repeats, always in sync with Dean’s thrusts, always right before Dean takes him in full. He’s babbling, he knows, but Castiel doesn’t stop, just does what Dean asked and spanks him, varying the intensity based on Dean’s voice. Soft, when it’s almost too much; hard, when he’s cocky and taunting, always with, “Is that all you got? Know you can go harder than that, babe.”

And sometimes, to where they’re joined, just to get him to scream. “Gonna come if you keep this up,” Dean wheezes and leans back, just enough to kiss Castiel again, lips slick with spit when he licks inside. “ _Fuck_ , ‘m gonna feel that.”

“I’m— _Dean_ —,” is Dean’s only warning before Castiel shudders and spills, his cock thickening further in his ass; Dean redoubles his efforts and chases his own orgasm, the damn _rings_ keeping him from shooting all over Castiel’s chest. He has half a second to complain before Castiel pulls him into a shaky kiss, apologies on his tongue. “Too fast,” Castiel laughs, quiet; his cock slips out, much to Dean’s displeasure, too soft to do anything with. “I didn’t anticipate that.”

“Neither did I,” Dean says, smirking.

So much for coming on Castiel’s cock like he planned; they’ll just have to work on it, now that Castiel knows this tidbit. Only a matter of time before they unearth the entire treasure trove of kinks Dean keeps hidden—maybe another week, at the least. The come steadily leaking from his rim isn't the most pleasant thing in the world, along with the all encompassing sting spreading across his ass. And he still hasn’t _come_ , the ache still burning at the base of his spine, silently begging for release.

“I didn’t intend to leave you like this,” Castiel soothes with a hand down Dean’s spine to his ass, fingers slipping in again. Dean would protest—everything feels raw back there—but Castiel just pushes Dean onto the couch cushions and sprawls between his legs, two fingers in his ass and his mouth sucking his cock down, deep.

Dean _moans_ , unbidden, and spreads his legs as far as he can, one foot on the floor with the other nudging Castiel’s ass. Even gripping Castiel’s hair doesn't take away from the pleasant burn running through his veins, just from Castiel’s fingers and his _mouth_ , warm and wet and so willing, tongue working to bring Dean off even despite the ring tight around his balls. He feels them attempt to rise despite the toy, orgasm licking hot up his spine, so close, so _close_. “Please,” he begs, his body a livewire, hips working to ride whatever Castiel gives him. “Please, I’m gonna— _please_ — _please_ , Cas—so _close_ , _please_ —oh _God_ —.”

He comes before he can warn Castiel, fingers tight in Castiel’s hair as he swallows him down, takes everything Dean has to give, and then some. And Castiel keeps _sucking_ , lips teasing his cockhead long enough for him to feel another load spurt forth, this time near-painful; his body can’t tell the difference anymore, lost in a haze.

Awareness flutters back by the time he’s flipped onto his stomach, and vaguely he feels Castiel’s hands massaging his _ass_ , the sweet smell of chocolate drawing him back. “You turning me into a dessert buffet back there?” he muses. Castiel pats him, just enough to bring back the sting. “ _Ow_ , c’mon—.”

“It’s cocoa butter,” Castiel shoots back with an eye roll. “It’ll help with the stinging. I think you underestimated just what you were asking me to do.”

Dean snorts and crosses his arms under his head. “Hey, post-sex massage? Think I could get used to this.”

Castiel lets out a sigh, not at all disappointed; he kisses the small of Dean’s back once he’s done, wiping the excess lotion off on a washrag. A different one this time, the other tossed to the floor beside the couch. “I didn’t think I’d like it that much,” Castiel confides; he lays in the gap between Dean and the back of the couch and throws an arm around his waist, pulling them flush. The leather squeaks when they move, sticking to Dean’s skin. He’s slept in more unpleasant places, he figures. “You’ve never told me about this.”

Dean shrugs and covers Castiel’s hand with his own, lets it rest there on his stomach. The damn cockring is still on, he notices, his cock finally soft, enough for him to slide it off and toss it onto the rug. “Figured it’d come up sooner or later,” Dean says through a yawn. “Haven’t gotten to try it out that often. Like it when you get rough with me, though.”

Castiel’s lips melt against his own when he leans over to kiss Dean, wet and lush, inviting. He could spend all day there if he could; the leather isn’t permitting though. Maybe he can try the same with Castiel soon, preferably in bed with Castiel’s hands tied. Vulnerability turns him on, apparently; Dean wouldn’t exploit it for the world. “I’d prefer it if you could sit later, though,” Castiel murmurs into his neck, hiding a smile there. “We still have the whole day to ourselves.”

Dean reaches up to kiss him, manages to roll over and pull Castiel into his arms, onto his back. “Then we better get started,” Dean smirks. “How do you feel about blindfolds?”

**Author's Note:**

> Two hour fic because Stina wanted spanking and I'm always happy to oblige. One day I'll finish my novel, I swear.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
